


The Trouble With You

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five ways in which Jensen's new roommate annoys him--and one way he most certainly does not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cha/gifts).



Tom Welling is an asshole.

Jensen knows this, logically, just by the fact that his socks tend to not match a good three days out of the week.

“Jensen, I’m in love,” Tom says rapturously one day. A Tuesday, for fuck’s sake.

Jensen stares at him blankly.

Tom flails his arms a bit to no avail.

Jensen cocks an eyebrow.

Tom breathes deep, tries for the handsome-puppy smile. “I’m in love with this guy named Mike, who works for the carnival. He’s leaving town tomorrow and I’m going with him. Jen. _Jen_. I know you don’t get out much and that maybe you don’t understand the way that this feels because of that, but I gotta go with him or my soul is literally going to shrivel up and die.”

 _Asshole._

“My name is Jensen, not Jen.”

Tom looks at him dumbly. A moment later a smile creeps up on his face. Jensen knows that smile. Jensen _hates_ that smile. “Don’t worry, Jen…sen, I know someone who’ll make a great roommate.”

That’s how Jensen Ackles ends up living with a guy who knows another guy who works with a guy that used to work with Tom, before Tom the Asshole joined the fucking circus.

In other words: utter disaster. Otherwise known as Jared Padalecki.

 

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/tebtosca/pic/00036z4f/)   


See, here’s the thing: Jensen likes order. He’s an architect for god’s sake, he needs to be precise. Perhaps there might be just a tad of OCD in there somewhere, but, really, is it that bad that he touches the knobs on the stove before leaving the house? What would they do if the house exploded, right? And the number four is such a lovely number, so angular and pointed. It’s not _strange_ that he likes to do things in orders of four, no matter what his mama tells him.

Jensen loves his apartment. It’s big and airy and cream-colored. And expensive. Which is why he’s staring at the smudges on his supposed-to-be-smudge-free stainless steel refrigerator and cursing the very existence of the new roommate that he needs to be able to afford the rent on the place.

“Hey, Jen,” Jared busts into the kitchen, grinning this big, ridiculous, dimpled thing of a smile.

Jensen swallows. “Jensen, please. Nicknames are so derivative.”

“I think that’s the point,” Jared retorts but then hangs his head sheepishly. Long bangs fall into his face and Jensen does _not_ want to push them out of the way gently.

They are two weeks into their new living arrangements when Jensen comes home from work and finds Jared cooking up what smells suspiciously like spaghetti alla carbonara in the formerly-immaculate kitchen. It smells utterly divine and Jared is humming to himself as his hips sway back and forth as he slumps over the pot on the stove.

“Did you use my pancetta?”

Jared spins around, hissing as boiling water splashes up at him. He’s wearing frayed jeans and a t-shirt and is barefoot. Jensen is never, ever barefoot, unless he’s about to step into the shower, and even then he finds it disdainful.

“Jensen, hey! I’m glad you’re home. I picked up wine, I hope you like Shiraz—“

Jared cuts off suddenly when Jensen stomps over to the refrigerator and pulls it open. He grabs a bottle of pickle relish with “Jensen” on P-touch labeling tape stuck onto it and waves it at Jared.

“See this, Jared? That’s my name. Just like how my pancetta had my name written on it. Unless my name suddenly turned into ‘Jared’ without me knowing it,” Jensen huffs. He doesn’t know why he’s mad; the pasta smells delicious and he doesn’t even know why he had the pancetta in the first place. But this person is in his house, and he is so big and messy, and Tom is an asshole, and Jensen just doesn’t know what the hell kind of game he’s playing with the cooking and the wine and the smiling.

Jared looks momentarily stricken, but recovers fast enough. “I’m really sorry about that, Jensen. I’ll be more considerate next time, I promise.”

Jensen’s speechless for a minute under the brunt of Jared’s polite apology. He feels like a dick for a second, but doesn’t know how to rectify it without admitting it.

Jared rubs his fingers through his hair and Jensen hopes suddenly that he washes his hands before he touches the food again. Not that Jensen has any reason to be worrying about the food that he most certainly is not going to eat.

“So, do you like Shiraz?” Jared asks, eyes hopeful again after the awkward silence.

“I don’t drink,” Jensen mumbles, placing the pickle relish back on its place next to the Dijon on its proper shelf and walking straight towards his room.

He most certainly doesn’t turn and look back.

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/tebtosca/pic/00036z4f/)   


Jensen’s next-door neighbors hate him. He doesn’t know why exactly, considering that he’s quiet and respectful and doesn’t leave food out to attract roaches and mice, but he knows without a doubt that they do. At first he thinks it must be something about him, but the neighbor down the hallway, Mr. Collins, always greets him warmly when he comes into the building. Of course, Mr. Collins likes to sit on the steps outside smoking a pipe with a cockatoo balanced on his shoulder, so he might not be the best judge of character.

So imagine how annoying it is to come home from work and see his neighbors--comely lesbian life partners named Charlotte and Kim—swooning all over his new roommate.

“Oh, Jared, that’s so sweet of you,” Charlotte fawns—honest to goodness fawns—over Jared, patting his chest lightly as he hefts five bags of groceries in his gigantic bulging arms.

“Yes, Jared, you should come over some time after dinner. I make a mean cupcake,” Kim coos, winking at Jared, who is just grinning like the dumb sweaty (magnificent) oaf that he is.

“It’s no problem, ladies, any time. Let me know if that drain is acting up again and I’ll come take a look,” Jared says sweetly and Jensen snorts rudely.

That manages to draw their attention and he debates running quickly into the house before they can absolutely not fawn or coo over him.

“Jensen, hi,” Jared calls out, beaming from ear to fucking ear, and Jensen wishes he would just stop doing that already.

Charlotte and Kim look at each other with an eyeroll . “Mr. Ackles, can you turn down whatever it is you were playing last night? Sounded like cats yodeling,” Kim asks with a smirk.

Jensen gasps and bites his knuckles to keep from punching the wall. “That was Maria Callas singing ‘Casta Diva’! Surely you jest.”

“Do I look like I’m jesting?” Kim deadpans, as Charlotte snickers.

Jared looks lost, the handles on the grocery bags leaving reddening indentations on his skin. Jensen can’t help but take in the cording of muscles running up his forearms.

“Hey Jensen, wait for me, okay? We can order in Thai and watch _Project Runway_ , maybe?” Jared offers and Jensen bristles because he knows for a fact that Jared hates both Thai food and Project Runway. Seriously, what the hell is his problem?

“Why don’t you just hang out with your new friends and have cupcakes. I’ll just go listen to my _cat yodeling_ on my iPod so I don’t disturb you,” Jensen spits out, rushing into the apartment and slamming the door behind him.

He breathes hard, resting his head up against the wood. Fucking Jared Padalecki. Jensen’s lived in this place for four years, ever since he got out of school, and Jared’s managed to surpass him in popularity within four _weeks._

Jensen feels lonely suddenly, but doesn’t exactly know why.

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/tebtosca/pic/00036z4f/)   


Jared is beautiful.

Jensen can’t even begin to deny it, even if he hates to admit it. Even if Tom likes to pretend he’s a eunuch, Jensen is a red-blooded gay man and can appreciate a fine male form, thank you very much.

Jared has these shoulders, round and curving and strong, leading down to biceps that looks carved from marble and forearms that look strong enough to carry a man with just those alone. His chest is sculpted and flawless, just the right amount of hair sprinkled across his tight, flat nipples , leading down into his granite abs and the treasure trail that leads to…

And goddammit, Jensen wouldn’t know all of these things if Jared would put some fucking clothes on while he’s walking around the house.

It starts around the two month mark, when Jared comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a tiny white towel draped around his waist. Jensen stands stock still in the hallway in front of him, mouth gaping in a way that would surely catch flies--if he allowed his house to get dirty enough to attract flies, of course.

“Hey,” Jared says, reaching up to run his hands through his wet strands of hair. The muscles in his belly ripple as he pulls his arms up, and Jensen does his best to not stare at the wet thatch of hair leading into the towel.

“Hey,” Jensen croaks back, squishing himself against the wall so that no part of Jared’s dripping wet body touches him as he passes.

Unfortunately for Jensen, summer comes rolling upon them. At first he thinks that it’s going to be a good thing and cranks the A/C up as high as it’ll go, electricity bills be damned. But, no, Jared still manages to walk around shirtless, jeans or sweats or pajama bottoms hanging low on razor-cut hipbones. Jared says he’s not cold, but Jensen can see the goosebumps rising on his flesh and the way that his nipples harden into taut little points.

“Aren’t you cold?” Jensen flat out asks one night. They’re sitting on the couch watching a documentary on sharks and eating a stir-fry Jared whipped up. Turns out he’s handy in the kitchen when he’s not stealing Jensen’s food.

Jared is sitting next to him in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, legs parted almost obscenely, and Jensen tries to keep his eyes on the television instead of letting them run wild over Jared’s half-naked form.

“Nah, I’m hot-blooded,” Jared winks at him and Jensen realizes he’s failed at that whole “not looking at Jared thing” when he catches it.

“Well, when you get pneumonia and end up in the hospital, don’t think you’re getting out of the rent,” Jensen quips, popping a piece of broccoli into his mouth with his chopsticks.

“Nope, I’m gonna make you take care of me,” Jared grins, leaning over to poke Jensen in the ribs with his chopstick.

“Stop, that’s dirty,” Jensen whines, pushing him away, but he maybe quirks a smile back at Jared. Half of one, at least.

Now if only Jared would put on some clothing, maybe Jensen could concentrate on the documentary.

Or life, in general.

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/tebtosca/pic/00036z4f/)   


Jensen thinks they have reached an impasse in their roommate relationship. He might even think of them as friends, although just to himself, of course. He’s somehow gotten used to Jared’s shirtlessness, and Jared hasn’t touched his pickle relish at all, even when he was making hot dogs on Fourth of July and didn’t have any of his own to work with. Jensen might have offered Jared some of his, but Jared looked so miserable that he couldn’t help himself.

Jensen starts to like Jared. A tiny bit. Like, at night when he’s alone in bed, where he’s not hurting anyone by admitting it, except maybe himself.

Then one night Jared comes home with a girl. A girl with long dark hair and curling full lips and a rosy flush on her cheeks.

Jensen’s sitting on the couch. He’d DVR’ed the game for Jared, didn’t even peek at the scores because he wanted to be surprised right alongside him. He had made them lentil soup and bought bread and…thought what? Jensen doesn’t know what he thought was going to happen.

“Hey, I’m Gen,” the girl waves, holding on to Jared’s wrist. It doesn’t quite matter anymore what Jensen thought was going to happen.

Jensen swallows, feeling irrationally sick to his stomach all of a sudden. “Um, nice to meet you. I’m not feeling very well, I think I’m going to…”

Jensen stays in his room the next day until he hears hushed voices and the sound of the front door closing.

Things are awkward for a bit, but there’s a part of Jensen that is relieved to find out for certain that Jared is straight. After all, even though it’s a gay boy cliché to fall in love with your straight roommate, at least it makes him feel a little bit more normal.

 _Fall in love. Shit._

Jensen works overtime for the next week, just because.

The morning he wakes up and there is a terribly attractive man that is _not_ Jared standing in his kitchen is pretty much the worst moment of his life he’s had since walking in on his college roommate Chad trying to fellate himself.

Not-Jared is holding a box of Raisin Bran with a ‘Jensen’ label on it and that’s just about more than Jensen can take before snatching the cereal right out of the man’s hand and rushing straight back to his room.

So Jared’s not as straight as previously thought. And why does that make Jensen even more miserable than even he normally is?

The little voice inside his head that sounds suspiciously like Tom snickers.

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/tebtosca/pic/00036z4f/)   


The first time it happens, Jared claims it’s an accident. That he didn’t even think.

Jared’s running late for work and he barges into the bathroom, fumbling towards the sink for his toothbrush.

Jensen had been fisting his cock in the shower at the same time and spills hot over his own hand when Jared says “Sorry, man, I’m late,” in that raspy just-woke-up drawl of his. Jensen clutches the wall to steady himself, trying to keep back the heavy panting from his orgasm—and worse, the sound of Jared’s name that he’d just been chanting to himself.

The second time, it’s later on at night, Jensen sprawling out across his pristine king-sized bed, on top of the military precision sheets. He’s given up trying to make himself deny that he’s ridiculously and hopelessly in, at the very least, lust with his dumb, oblivious slob of a roommate.

A guy at work asked him out the other day. Cute guy named Chris with bright blue eyes and long brown hair and a smirk that would probably mean some fun times if Jensen accepted them. But all Jensen could think of as he turned Chris down was that he’d have to look down to kiss him, and that just isn’t what he’s looking for right now.

Of course what Jensen is looking for is behind the adjoining wall in his own king sized—albeit surely messy and unmade—bed of his own. But Jensen doesn’t get to have the things he wants usually; he learned that young and kept the knowledge tight to his chest like a force field.

Jensen closes his eyes when he curls his fingers around his dick, slipping his hand into his briefs and just playing. He can smell Jared if he concentrates enough, the scent of sugar and Old Spice. Jensen grips himself tighter, imagines Jared’s hand, so much bigger than his own, rubbing the head with his thumb to spread the precome leaking out of his slit farther down his cock. He twists on the upstroke, imagines calluses that he himself has never had and the crease of dimples pressing into his neck.

“Jared,” he chokes out on a low moan, spurting in between the webbing of his fingers only minutes later.

There’s a creak at his door and Jensen can’t bear to open his eyes. He left the door cracked; he knows he did, the question is why.

Jensen can feel eyes on him, lets the sensation of being on display for Jared rush over him as he lays there still and silent with his come-covered hand stuffed in his underwear.

He hears the door to his room close and he finally lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/tebtosca/pic/00036z4f/)   


Jensen’s sitting down in the living room a week later, writing down all of the reasons that Jared annoys him. He’s managed to get up to five so far, and even though each one has indented caveats attached, it doesn’t dispel the fact that they are right there in black and white. He touches the paper, willing it to give him a reason to dislike Jared and forget about how truly fucked in the head Jensen is over him.

Jared walks in, throwing his bag on the recliner, and Jensen makes a note in his head to add “leaves his shit all over the house” to the list.

“What are you doing?” Jared asks in lieu of a hello and Jensen looks up in surprise. He’s never heard Jared’s voice quite so exasperated.

Jensen tugs the paper close to his chest on instinct and shrugs. “Just making a grocery list.”

Jared stares at him silently for a second before speaking again. “Really, let me see it. I have a few things I want to add.”

“No!” Jensen protests, as Jared reaches down to try and take it from him.

“Why not,” Jared demands hotly, and grabs the paper out of Jensen’s hands before he can do anything else about it. The room is eerily still as Jared looks down at the heading—“Reasons Why Jared Annoys Me” -- and a hurt expression covers his face.

“It’s not what you think,” Jensen mumbles, face growing hot. He pulls his legs in on himself protectively and presses his cheek to his knees.

After a moment, when it appears Jared’s managed to finish reading the full list, his face clears and he looks at Jensen angrily. “You’re an idiot.”

Jensen cringes and braces himself like Jared’s going to punch him. He doubts Jared really will, but part of Jensen wishes he would just do it because the look on Jared’s face is far greater punishment.

“Number one: eats all of my labeled food,” Jared starts reading off, and Jensen realizes how petty it all sounds when it’s put out there like that. Jared pauses for a second before shaking his head as if to clear it and continuing. “I was trying to impress you that day, Jensen. I just wanted you to like me and my mama always said that feeding someone was the best way to get them there.”

“Jared—“ Jensen tries to stop him, but Jared just holds up his hand as if to tell him to shut up.

“Number two: steals the neighbors. Really, Jensen?”

“Not like that,” Jensen grumbles, rolling his eyes slightly.

“Besides the fact that Charlotte and Kim are nice ladies who make awesome cupcakes, I actually be-friended them to try and get more information about _you_ , jackass. I figured they’ve known you longer than most people and that Collins guy scares me with the cockatoo.”

Jensen barks out a laugh, and then blushes. “Yeah, the cockatoo is a little rambunctious.”

Jared half-smiles and it looks like the brunt of his anger has calmed down. He falls onto the other side of the couch from where Jensen is still huddled up. “Number three: is always goddamn naked.”

Jared looks up at him then, and Jensen shudders at what looks strangely like heat, if Jensen didn’t know better. “I’m always goddamn naked because I thought if I got you to look at me you would pay attention finally.”

“But,” Jensen sputters, pointing at the list. “What about number four?”

Jared glances down and smirks. “Number four: has sex with really hot people that are not me.” He looks back up at Jensen and shrugs. “Gen is my best friend and figured since the guy I was hot for wasn’t paying attention to me, maybe the best thing to do was make him jealous.”

Jensen gapes at him like a fish. “And you thought you spending the night with a woman would help the situation?”

Jared flushes a little. “Yeah, that part was a little stupid. That’s why my buddy Matt offered to try it himself the next time.”

“You mean hot naked guy that tried to eat my Raisin Bran?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Although I thought I was hot naked guy?” Jared teases and Jensen just rolls his eyes.

“You’re not bad, I guess,” Jensen relents, relaxing enough for his legs to drop back down to the floor.

“Yeah, I guess that would go right into number five, huh?”

Jensen breathes deep when Jared starts moving over towards him on the couch with half-lidded eyes. “Yeah, number five.”

“Keeps coming in while I’m jacking off thinking about him,” Jared recites, and suddenly he’s right there in Jensen’s personal space, with his lips mere centimeters away from him. How the fuck did he get this close so fast?

“Yeah, you should really stop doing that,” Jensen murmurs, but the words are barely finished before Jared is pressing his mouth to his.

It’s just a dry press of lips at first, Jensen too startled by the sudden turn of events to really do much. But Jared’s mouth becomes more forceful and when the tip of his tongue dances across the seam of Jensen’s mouth, Jensen opens for him with a moan that he didn’t even know he could make.

It’s several hot seconds before Jensen realizes that Jared has somehow managed to fit his entire long, ridiculous body in Jensen’s lap, never once separating their biting, slick mouths. Jensen reaches up to tangle his hands in Jared’s hair, and Jared whimpers against Jensen’s lips as Jensen tugs at him.

“Do I still annoy you?” Jared asks, pressing kisses to Jensen’s jawline and how is Jensen supposed to be able to think straight when he’s doing that?

“Absolutely,” Jensen insists, dragging Jared’s face back up and sending his tongue on a search party for Jared’s tonsils.

Jared laughs a minute later, pulling back just enough to rest his hot forehead against Jensen’s. “You wanna take this to bed, Jen?”

“It’s Jensen, you asshole.”

Jared laughs even harder.

No one is laughing ten minutes later, when Jared’s managed to get them both stripped down to nothing but their boxer briefs and spread out over Jared’s bed. He presses himself over Jensen, kissing his way down freckled skin and tracing his tongue around Jensen’s belly button.

Jensen tenses when Jared starts kissing along the cut of his pelvis. It’s been a while, too long, and this is _Jared_ and Jared is everything he’s been dreaming about for almost a year now. Jensen’s terrified he’s going to come in his pants before Jared’s even managed to get them off.

Jared kisses the tender insides of Jensen’s thighs as he pulls the cotton off of him. Jensen’s cock bobs hot and red against his abdomen and Jared nuzzles his nose against the base of it as Jensen groans.

“Jared,” Jensen gasps as Jared runs his lips lightly over his entire length.

“Wanted this so long, Jensen. Since the first day practically,” Jared murmurs, tip of his tongue writing figures on the underside of Jensen’s cock, right up to the curve of the crown.

“So sorry for being stupid, Jared, so sorry.”

Jared shushes him, before opening up and taking in the top of Jensen’s dick, pressing the flat of his tongue against it before swirling up and licking into the slit.

“Jared, god, stop, I’m gonna,” Jensen warns, embarrassed that he’s overcome so fast, but unable to help himself.

Jared pulls off with an obscene pop and lies back, pulling Jensen on top of him as they roll. He threads his hands at the back of Jensen’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss, opening his legs to let Jensen fall in the space between them.

“You like to be in control, don’t you, Jensen?” he breathes against Jensen’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Jensen admits, his insides warring between shame and lust.

“Take it then, c’mon,” Jared says, reaching over to the drawer in his nightstand and pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom. He presses them into Jensen’s hands as his face curls into a smile.

“You sure?” Jensen swallows and Jared smirks and opens his legs farther in reply.

That’s more than good enough for Jensen, who nearly tears Jared’s underwear off. Jared answers with a shocked laugh, but his dick is harder than granite and, _fuck_ , even more proportional than is even fair. Jensen’s going to do a lot of things with that dick in the future, but right now he needs to get his own inside Jared before he comes like a teenager all over Jared’s abs.

Jensen lubes up his fingers and leans over to kiss Jared deeply as he runs one fingertip around the edge of Jared’s hole. Jared whimpers a bit against Jensen’s tongue as Jensen pushes in. Jensen stills, waits for Jared to stop tensing before he starts massaging his inner walls. They keep kissing, Jared clinging to Jensen’s shoulders as Jensen presses a second finger in him and curls up just enough to just barely touch Jared’s prostate.

“C’mon, Jensen, fuck me, want it so bad,” Jared mumbles, pulling Jensen’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. He reaches over for the condom packet lying next to them and pushes it into Jensen’s clean hand. The other one is still working inside of Jared, three fingers now, slick with lube and tugging at Jared’s rim until it’s pink and stretched around Jensen’s knuckles.

Jensen pulls his fingers out to get the condom open and Jared groans, staring hotly at the shine of wetness dripping over Jensen’s hand. Jensen has to press the base of his own cock to keep from coming just at the sounds Jared is making.

Jared hitches his legs up, calves tight against Jensen’s ribcage as Jensen begins pressing the tip of his sheathed cock inside him. Jared hisses a bit at the stretch and Jensen pauses, looking at him for confirmation that everything is okay. Jared’s tight, so tight, around him and Jensen thinks about the cockatoo down the hall to try and stave off orgasm.

“Jared?” Jensen croaks desperately, every muscle in his body tensing up.

“It’s been a while, sorry,” Jared gasps, laughing a little wildly. Jensen bites his lip and goes to pull out, but Jared squeezes him with his inner muscles to keep him in.

Jared’s eyes grow dark. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Do it.”

Jensen doesn’t have to be asked twice, and he bottoms out with one hard slide that leaves both of them groaning. He pauses again when he feels his balls pressing against the curve of Jared’s ass, and leans down to just mouth against Jared’s lips absently.

They stay like that, breathing each other in, letting the moment settle. Jensen presses little kisses over Jared’s face, his eyelids and the sharp cut of his cheekbone, down to his jaw and the little patch of warm skin under his ear. Jared just breathes, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, as Jensen starts moving, tiny little jabs alternately with longer, deeper strokes. The only sounds in the room are the wet squelch of lube, the slap of skin, and the heavy, panting breaths they’re sharing between them.

Jensen wraps his fingers around Jared’s cock and that’s about all it takes for Jared to arch up against him and spill white all over Jensen’s hand and their stomachs. He squeezes Jensen’s cock so tightly that Jensen comes only seconds later, pouring into the latex as he presses his face into Jared’s neck and moans.

Jensen’s panting as he pulls out, flopping on his back next to Jared and closing his eyes to try to come down from the high. Doubt starts creeping in then, as the seconds pass, but then Jared is rolling over and clinging to Jensen like a cuddly octopus.

“Would it be annoying if I said that I love you?” Jared asks, his words soft and low from where he’s pressing up against Jensen’s sweaty neck.

Jensen takes in a sharp breath, momentarily stunned into silence. He feels Jared tensing when Jensen doesn’t respond right away, and Jensen decides right then and there that he can’t have that.

“You really need to learn how to put your stuff in your own room and not on the recliner when you get home,” Jensen says, keeping his voice even, but clutching Jared for dear life. “Just because I’m in love with you, doesn’t mean that I’m going to let you turn our house into a pig sty.”

Jensen feels Jared still next to him before Jared starts laughing. He feels Jared’s lips stretched against him, the flat of those adorably crooked teeth pressing against Jensen’s skin as he laughs. If Jensen looked down, he bets that Jared’s dimples would be deep enough to crawl into and get lost in.

“I’m going to get you so messy,” Jared says suddenly, not laughing anymore, those teeth nipping at the corner of Jensen’s jaw.

Jensen shivers. For once in his life, he can’t wait.


End file.
